Everything is Fine
by Relel
Summary: "Don't get weird on me, Desmond." "It's fine. I'm fine. Really, dad, it's nothing."
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my first Assassin's Creed Story. I'm not sure if I've gotten all my facts strait, if you see any mistakes please leave a review to correct me. Thank you for taking the time to read my story! 3**

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"It just keeps happening..."

"What does?"

"Everything."

"Don't get weird on me Desmond."

"It's fine. I'm fine. Really, dad, it's nothing."

He knew it was a lie. But he didn't want to worry him. Yeah, his dad was a total asshole, but Desmond knew that he cared in his own twisted kind of way. For that reason, he tried not to stress him out.

It was hard to pretend like he wasn't avoiding the people walking past him constantly. Desmond knew they'd give him funny looks when he walked beside them. He would simply ignore their looks and pretend that he always walked like that. That was the easiest thing to ignore.

When the people, ghosts, specters, whatever you prefer to call them, talked to him, it took everything in his power to not respond. He caught himself about to respond, not to what Rebecca or Shaun had said, but to Malik's smart remark, or to Leonardo's excited explanation of some new invention. Not only did he have to not respond to the people that seemed so close, so real, he also had to struggle to stay in English.

Numerous times he would be talking and notice the concerned looks from his father and his teammates. He would realize that he had talked in Arabic, or Italian. He would laugh, saying he was only joking with them, or pretending that he was practicing the languages. Desmond could tell they didn't believe him, but they were so busy with their work they accepted his explanation.

But the hardest thing to fake was the nightmares. He started sleeping with his shirt in his mouth, face down on the pillow, on top of one of the pillars, or in a room he had discovered that the others didn't know about. He woke himself up many times with his own cries. Every morning he had to find a way to dry his tear soaked pillow. It didn't help that he would wake in the morning and see Juno standing over him. He didn't tell the others that it was one out of fifteen times that they heard what Juno was saying. The rest of the time she was whispering in his ear, showing him visions while he was away from the others. The images she showed him were burned into his memory. Visions of the death of millions, his mother's body burned nearly beyond recognition, and Vidic standing triumphant as the Templars begin their rule over the remaining people.

Though the nightmares were the worst, the one thing that he could not escape from was his age. He had lived to be 92 through Altair. He had felt the life slip from his body as Altair succumbed to old age. He had died in the temple beneath Masyaf. He had lived to be 65 through Ezio. He felt old. Though he knew he was only 25 he could feel the ache in his joints. He wore out easily; he tried his best to hide this from his companions. And he was tired. He was ready to be done. All he wanted was to rest for a very long time.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Really, dad, it's nothing."

He said that to comfort his dad, to let him know that he was still there. But Desmond couldn't shake the feeling that the rest he wanted wasn't too far off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all sooo darn stinking much for your support! It honestly made me warm and fuzzy and just plain happy! I want to thank each and every one of you, especially:**

**Teenfreaker**

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**Dinosaurmad8**

**East Coast Captain**

**and 1arigato!**

**I love and appreciate you all! I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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"Home stretch Desmond, I can feel it."

His father patted his shoulder in an attempt to be affectionate. It didn't quite suffice, but Desmond accepted that it was the best his father could do. As his father walked away, and Shaun focused on the door, and Rebecca turned towards the computers, Desmond changed his mind.

He quickly removed himself from whatever black substance the Animus was resting on and quietly slipped away. Though most of his paths were blocked, he managed to find a place that was far away from everyone else. It was a quiet spot that opened up into the main room. He found it not long ago. Everyone would be able to see him if they just looked up, and he was sure they knew he was up there. No one ever looked, though. Either they were too focused on their so-called work, or they just didn't want to recognize his presence. He wouldn't want to look up either if it were him.

He knew they were afraid of him. At least, Shaun and Rebecca were. His father was more afraid for him than of him. But when he talked with Shaun or Rebecca he could see the slight fear in their eyes. He knew every time they looked at him they saw Lucy's killer. He hadn't yet revealed to them that he killed her willingly.

To tell them now would be to lose all trust they had in him. He wasn't willing to risk it, not after every thing his dad had been through. But he was tempted, oh so tempted to tell them the truth. He wanted to grab them by their collars, shake them as hard as he could, and shout in their face that she was a Templar. She was a Templar and they had no one to blame but themselves. But he didn't.

And so he placed himself on what he assumed was some kind of counter or bench and watched. And he thought. He thought about everything and nothing at once. He could feel it in his bones. It was coming to an end. He was ready for it to be finished.

As he looked down he could see strange people. He didn't know who they were or why they were here. All these strange lights surrounded him. Desmond's head hurt. He was wearing strange clothes and he had all his fingers. He tenderly touched his face and was relieved to know that his scar was still there. Desmond squeezed his eyes as tight as he possibly could. A strange woman appeared next to him. It was hard to watch her though, for it seemed as though she flickered in and out of reality. He closed his eyes and hoped, he doesn't bother with praying, and stood quickly. He had to get out of here and find Malik. Desmond shook his head violently. He could hear himself cursing in Arabic. Bracing himself against the wall he smashed his head against the rock. He heard ringing in his ears. His head was hurting and he tried to pull himself away from the wall. Desmond quickly smashed his had against the wall again. He cried out in pain, but his previous headache was gone. He slumped against the wall and buried his face in his hands.

It was deadly silent. He smirked. There was no sound of keys clicking, no feet wandering along the floor, no turning of pages to signal any kind of movement below him. He wanted to laugh. It took everything in his power to stifle his laugh. Desmond slapped his hand across his mouth. Giggles escaped and gradually escalated into a laughing fit. He held his sides as tears began trickling down his cheeks. He laughed and laughed until he was sobbing as he held his head in his hands. It was the home stretch. And he could hear the crowd cheering him on.

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**P.S. I'm mainly doing these little snippits off of my favorite lines from Assassin's Creed III. If you guys have any that you really like, I'd be more than happy to write a chapter on it. I love you all!**


	3. Wasn't

**These chapters (and yes, chapterS) are thanks to BreshitHaya, whose review was so awesome, it inspired two chapters. So, I hope these live up to your expectations. Criticism is welcome and encouraged. :D Enjoy.**

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Whenever he opened his eyes, he was snapped back into the present. It could happen at any moment that William didn't deem necessary. He would be forcefully drawn from whatever moment he was invested in. He sat up in a panic, frantically grabbing at the air, wondering where Darim and Sef had gone. His breathing was labored and he couldn't stop his body from reaching out, even though he realized there was nothing there. Yet, he couldn't stop. He'd had enough.

He lunged for the heavy box, before Becca could sedate him like normal. His knuckles turned white as he lifted the crate above his head and threw it with all his might at William. It was all Bill could do to dodge the incoming object, and then he tackled the older man. Bill struggled to pry his son's fingers away from his throat. The younger man drew back his hand, ready to drive the missing hidden blade into his father's eye. He hesitated, wondering where his weapon had gone when he felt a needle being shoved into the muscle of his neck, rendering him unconscious within seconds. Shaun had to drag the heavier man onto a makeshift bed. William stood up, refusing Becca's help, and sauntered back to the Animus, briefly wondering why his son hadn't clenched his index finger.

Ezio smiled up at his father, who had affectionately ruffled his hair. They had been walking through the market together, a rare occurrence for Ezio, since his father had a lot of meetings. They were laughing, enjoying each other's company. Ezio had been babbling on and on about his new baby brother. He loved being a big brother, and now he had yet another sibling.

He drowsily opened an eye, peeking out from his lashes. The others were asleep, so he got up and began his routine of walking around the temple. He had been wandering for a few hours when he ended up back with the group. He slumped against the wall farthest from them and hung his head. Involuntarily, the tears started to flow. He didn't weep, he didn't want to face the others if the woke up and saw him like this. So, he just sat there and cried, wondering what would happen is he just slipped Rebecca's knife away from her. Would they even care if they woke up to see his body dangling from of the rope they always had with them.

He froze when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The hand awkwardly patted his head before decided to ruffle his hair.

"Desmond," his father spoke quietly, "If you're up, go ahead and get into the Animus. We're almost there son."

And Desmond stood up; but, he wasn't Desmond, he hadn't been Desmond in quiet a while.


	4. Knowing

**I think this one is my personal favorite. **

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He wasn't going to lie; it hurt like hell. He knew dying wasn't painless. He wasn't a complete idiot; besides, he had died hundreds of times in the animus. True, it wasn't really him dying, but it was real enough. He FELT it. His body knew it. He should be dead. He should have died years ago, at least, that's what his mind had told him.

Had, being the important part. It seemed like years ago when his mind stopped being his when in reality it had only been three months. Three months of being Altair, Ezio, and Connor. Three months of thinking that Malik was his best friend, that Petrucio was his brother, that Haytham was his father. He was a Syrian, born in Florence, raised in Kanatahseton. He was missing an index finger that bore the scar of being branded. He had a scar on his upper lip from a rock being thrown (or was it from a knife?). He constantly reached for his longer hair, only to be met with the short hair that he expected. It was too hot in Masyaf to have long hair. He would quickly pretend to be scratching the back of his neck, fearing that Rebecca and Shaun would notice. William wouldn't, his dad wouldn't, so that didn't worry him.

He had been trying so hard not to worry them, though. He would eat enough food to satisfy them, he would pretend to sleep among them. He responded when they spoke to him, he even smiled at them every once in a while, because he had figured it out.

Juno was willing to sacrifice her own husband, why shouldn't she sacrifice Desmond (whoever that was)? He had been patiently waiting for them to find the key. Altair didn't have much more strength left in him, and he was tired of hearing all this chatter about "cameras" and "radar". He was too old for this, but it was quite interesting really. He was interested in the _airplanes_. They looked very similar to the contraption Leonardo let him use. On more then one occasion, he begged either Rebecca or Shaun to show him how to use the guns, for they were much more advanced than the flintlock pistols he had used in the colonies. So when he, Ezio, touched the pedestal, Ratonhnhake:ton's body seized up, and Altair felt his body drop to the floor. Ezio was eager to see his family again, Altair was pissed that he was so weak to immediately collapse, and Ratonhnhake:ton was praying that he had saved man's freedom.

Then it was quiet, and his eyes closed. He blinked and looked around and Desmond was aware that he didn't hurt anymore. His mind was clear and his own. There weren't any foreign thoughts drifting about. His eyes focused through the darkness and he felt a real smile on his face. He grabbed the extended hand and was hauled onto his feet. Altair patted his down, making sure there weren't any wounds. Ezio clapped him on the back, laughing in a way only he could. Ratonhnhake:ton waited for the three of them a few steps ahead. Desmond looked around, expecting a sort of light to guide his way. He turned back to his ancestors as couldn't help but grin as Ezio chuckled, Ratonhnhake:ton smiled, and Altair merely watched. Desmond shook his head and followed them, because for right now, he was himself. He knew he was Desmond, and he wasn't sure how long that would last.

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**If you were slightly confused or not confused at all, then I think I did it right. If you were completely and totally lost, I'll try and fix it. I hope you enjoyed it enough to leave a review. Also, this is probably the last chapter, unless you guys want more. If so, I'm happy to oblige. :D**


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